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daredevilkink2015-08-14 07:00 pm
ddk_mod) wrote in daredevilkink2015-08-14 07:00 pm
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Prompt Post #6
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[fill] Matched Your Own Beat (11b/12)
(Anonymous) 2015-10-07 03:10 am (UTC)(link)Foggy's place to talk, it turns out, is a dingy bar Matt is fairly sure they shouldn't be allowed in, where they get served sodas almost immediately by a low-voiced woman who smells like cigarettes and scotch and who Foggy tells Matt he's going to marry someday. “Nobody cares what people talk about in here,” says Foggy. “So I thought it might be a good place to … you know. Discuss you hearing conversations across schools. And also you stepping in to defend me earlier. And other stuff, I don't know. I've been thinking maybe we should talk.”
“Right.” Matt takes a deep breath. “Where do you want to start, then? Ask me questions.” Foggy knows how to do that, and it's easier than trying to confess everything in some kind of incomprehensible heap.
After a few seconds and a sip of soda, Foggy does. It starts with asking about how far he can hear conversations, and it ranges over Matt's hearing, his smell, his late nights in the gym where his father used to box and how he's getting better at it, how he likes it better than the martial arts he learned—well, the martial arts he learned. There are some things Matt isn't going to volunteer, and that Foggy doesn't ask. Stick isn't a story for today.
“So you have superpowers,” Foggy summarizes when Matt runs dry on new things to tell him. He wasn't pleased about all of it (he doesn't like Matt hearing his heart, but Matt really can't help that, not when they're sitting so close), but he's still listening. He isn't cutting off contact again. “Tell me you don't go out at night and save damsels.”
Matt shakes his head. “I don't.” That's honesty, even if it's not the whole story, and when Foggy just hums thoughtfully, he forces the rest of it out. “Sometimes I want to. I don't—I would have punched Fisk, if you hadn't stopped me. I would have done more than punch him, probably. Maybe Wesley. Maybe even Vanessa.”
“That's—chivalrous, I guess. For the record, please don't. I don't want you getting arrested for me. Or, you know, anyone.”
Sometimes, Matt will hear someone crying in the bathroom, or Karen talking quietly to Ben about how she ended up in the system, or a siren will pass his window at night, and he'll itch, wanting to do something about it, knowing that if he practices he'll be able to do something about it. “I won't get arrested,” he says, which is the closest he can get to telling the truth.
Foggy sighs like he knows it. “That's really not comforting, but we'll leave it there for now, and I am going to ask you why you came rushing in to defend my honor earlier.”
It's Matt's turn to stall with a sip of his soda. It tastes like too much sugar, and carbonation is sometimes too much of a sensory distraction, but he could use the distraction today. “You know why,” he finally says, and Foggy makes a displeased noise. “You do. It's what I would have done if someone were hassling Karen or Claire too, if that makes you feel any better about it.”
“I just … stroke my ego here, Matt. As they so delicately pointed out, the whole you-pretending-to-like-me thing was kind of pitiful. Indulge me. I was doing okay. They were empty threats. Why go in there fists swinging?”
“Because empty or not, you shouldn't have had to hear that. You shouldn't have had to deal with them being spiteful, and threatening you.” He fidgets with his straw wrapper. “Because it's my fault they had that much ammunition on you.”
Foggy shakes his head, hair on his shoulders. “They would have found ammunition no matter what, if you turned me down that first day it would have been about how I never should have believed the note. I'm pissed off about the pity dating, but not because of them using it against me. I'm just pissed it happened.”
Matt ducks his head. “I'm still sorry about that.”
“I can't believe I'm … you said it got to be genuine.” Matt's heart jumps to his throat, and Foggy continues before he can try to speak past it. “I want you to be so sure that it isn't guilt, or whatever.”
“It's not.” Too fast, too loud. Matt sits back in his chair and tries to modulate his voice. “It isn't, Foggy. I promise. What … what changed your mind? If you're changing you're mind.” He could just want information, but his heart is a little faster than usual but steady, and he's tapping his fingers against the table. He usually only fidgets when he's finalizing his arguments for debate.
Foggy sighs, but it isn't exasperated, from what Matt can tell. He's still thinking. “It's kind of hard to keep telling myself you were making it all up when you're clearly pining.”
“I wasn't making it up.” Convincing Foggy because he's being obvious about missing him isn't ideal, but it might make Foggy feel like the playing field is a little more level.
“Yeah, I kind of—I mean, you were going to stupidly punch people to, I don't know, defend my honor or something. I get the message that this isn't a pity thing. And if it isn't a guilt thing ...” Matt shakes his head. “It seems kind of stupid if we both have feelings for each other and we're not together, even if you were a massive dick about things the first time around.”
“No false pretenses this time,” Matt promises, and dares to put his hand on the table, to see if Foggy's going to take it.
“Okay.” Foggy shifts in his seat and puts his hand next to Matt's, fingers barely brushing. “Okay.” And then he's half out of his side of the booth, scraping against the table in a way that has to hurt, and his glass rocks but doesn't tip as he leans over the table to kiss Matt, clumsier even than their first kiss. Matt doesn't care. He kisses back, doesn't worry about the angle or how their mouths are only half touching. Foggy is kissing him again. They can worry about finesse again later. There's going to be a later.
“No,” says the woman who delivered their sodas, loud and closer than she should have managed to get before Matt heard her. Foggy is distracting. “Nelson, you want to feel up your boyfriend, you pay for your soda and scat.”
Foggy laughs, and Matt is still close enough that he can feel the heat from his cheeks. “Josie, light of my life, this is kind of a celebratory occasion. Promise we'll keep it PG?”
She snorts. “That's worse. Out, Nelson. Come back when you aren't acting like a cartoon character.”
It sounds like a well-worn interaction, if not quite an affectionate one, so Matt lets Foggy take the lead and pay for their sodas. He can always pay for their next date, and he likes hearing Foggy quietly argue with Josie at the counter, something about a discount and an extra tip. Foggy is busy the whole time, bouncing on the balls of his feet, heart fast and whole body warm. Matt is making him happy again, Matt and winning the debate, even if that was spoiled a little by the conversation in the hall.
“Okay,” says Foggy when he's done, grabbing Matt's hand and towing him out of the building. “That didn't act like quite as much of a refuge as I wanted, but I should probably get home anyway. I didn't tell Mom I would be missing dinner or bringing company. And you didn't tell Karen or the Urichs that either.”
“No, I didn't.” But Foggy can finally come to dinner now. Doris and Ben will be pleased. “But I'll see you tomorrow at school, anyway.”
Foggy squeezes his hand. “Probably smart to stick together, right? Present a united front for our nemeses.”
“Right.” Matt isn't sure of the wisdom of that at all, but a united front sounds good. He squeezes back. “Thank you for trying again.”
“Yeah, well. I guess my willpower isn't great when I'm confronted with hot guys with superpowers who are pining according to my friends.” They walk a few steps. “Fair warning, if you're an asshole this time Marci may actually ruin your life.”
“She talked about Brett punching me, too.”
“She—no, you know what, I'm not even going to ask right now, I'm going to enjoy this walk with my—boyfriend, I guess.”
“Boyfriend definitely.” They only have about a block before Matt will have to split off in a different direction, but that's fine. He can kiss Foggy goodbye again, and find him at his locker before school.
Foggy laughs. “Okay, all my fears are being alleviated, I wish you could see your face right now.”
“Good.”
The rest of the walk is good—Matt does kiss Foggy goodbye, until someone brushing by them on the sidewalk swears and mutters something about taking up space, and he lingers on the rest of his walk.
Karen and Doris and Ben are all home when he gets there, sitting around the dinner table, and all of them relax when he comes into view, Doris and Ben taking each other's hands under the table and Karen's grin showing coming through her voice when she says “It went okay, then?”
Matt must be blushing, because she's biting back laughter now, and Doris isn't bothering to contain her chuckle. “Yeah.”
“Well, then,” says Ben. “Dinner's still warm. Sit down and tell us all about it.”
Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (11b/12)
(Anonymous) 2015-10-07 03:57 am (UTC)(link)Re: [fill] Matched Your Own Beat (11b/12)
(Anonymous) 2015-10-07 04:36 am (UTC)(link)(also i love the bit about matt understanding the danger of fisk's temper because he has the same kind of temper himself. that's a nice parallel, as is the way fisk was presumably participating in the 'get foggy' scheme because he felt people he cared about had been hurt... but foggy stopped matt from hitting anyone (and matt listened), whereas vanessa and wesley actively worked to hurt foggy over something incredibly petty and did nothing to stop fisk from abusing his authority or escalating the conflict.)